At last my soul explodes! “Anywhere! Just so
it is out of the world!”
— Charles Baudelaire
You were never meant to hold that much without breaking, the ad for some tincture promising happiness said. The fan of folders overrunning your desk, incessant instant messages, discordant chorus of desk telephones, flickering fluorescent overcast. It’s all too much for me to take, the glove that’s strangling all around us. The familiar pill mill nurses, candy bowl of benzos on their desk, are like free coffee and catered lunch once a week: there to keep the hour whores all pulling together. The steady subsonic rumble of discontent swells. Something is going to crack and when it does, run toward it—to sunshine, to bird song, to surf swish or susurration and get out.
It’s All Too Much
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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